For Their Eyes Only
by Selena
Summary: Whitney Frost is at large again, and Peggy and Howard are determined to stop her. They didn't count on a certain British agent's interference... Or: Vulgar millionaires, mad scientists, lethally dangerous women - it's just another day in the life of James Bond, until he realises that this time, the roles keep switching...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** : Characters and situations from _Agent Carter_ owned by Marvel. James Bond created by Ian Fleming and currently owned by various corporations.

 **Timeline** : Early 1954, which is five years after Peggy and Howard founded SHIELD and a year after _Casino Royale_ as per Ian Fleming's original novel. Bond's age is also from the novels (born in 1920, which makes him a bit younger than Howard and as old as Peggy).

 **Thanks To** : Kathy, my fabulous beta.

 **Author's Note** : Originally written for the SSRConfidential 2018 ficathon.

* * *

 **Prologue**

As an evil millionaire's lair went, this one was pretty much par for the course, Bond thought. An island, because of course it was, a mansion that excelled in gilt decorations, various traps complete with prowling animals on the grounds surrounding the mansion. Though to give credit where it was due: using a vicious flamingo instead of sharks, piranhas or feral dogs did have some originality. That bird had been relentless.

He'd found the suit hidden where his contact had said it would be. It was easy to mingle among the guests; he identified various oil men with ties to organized crime, various US senators known for their corruption, and at least three known contract killers among the beauties dressed in bikinis who were lingering around the swimming pool. Yes, they'd definitely sent him to the right place.

As for the host, famous for never doing anything low key, this was excessive even for him; he'd engaged an orchestra dressed in nothing but sea shells which in turn formed letters of his name. And then there was the gold-painted obelisk in the middle of the pool. Personally, Bond thought Freud was vastly overrated, but the symbolism didn't escape him. The only person in this entire assembly who was dressed in a manner that allowed them to fade into the background was the butler, so Bond decided to keep his eyes on him, not least because butlers of megalomaniac millionaires in his experience tended to flaunt a sideline of murder.

Bond had just ordered his first martini, shaken, not stirred, when the orchestra's brass players actually used conch shells to play a fanfare announcing that their host wanted to make a speech. The man climbed on the pool's diving board and rambled on for far too long about how he was to introduce the world to his latest masterpiece, something featuring self heating cells, if Bond understood him correctly among all the bluster. The golden obelisk split apart and revealed what looked like a fancy air conditioner in the form of flower petals, and Bond was about to discreetly check his watch when at last the truly interesting part of the evening began. There was a sound in the air that resembled a whip, combined with some crackling, and to his amazement, he saw the pool's water turn into ice. In a few moments, the ice had reached the center, covering those flowery heating cells. Bond turned to the pool's edge, to the point where the icy transformation had started.

She was a vision in silver, from the mask covering her entire face downwards, dressed in a sleek, figure, hugging suit, her hair pulled back into an equally silvery braid. Bond wasn't entranced enough to miss she was also wearing a gun belt, though the instrument she was holding in her hand seemed to be connected to the sudden ice wave rather than providing ammunition.

"That's what true power and innovation looks like, Stark," she called, in a voice that reminded him of the instructor who taught him how to break someone's neck. All the excited murmurs her display had caused abruptly ceased. She had everyone's attention, including, of course, Bond's, though he spared a quick look for the butler and noted with interest the man seemed to have disappeared.

"If anyone else wants to have a taste, you'll have to make it worth my while. I am Madame Masque, and this is the last free sample any of you is going to get."

There was something about her accent that bothered Bond. It struck him as generic American, maybe a bit too generic. In any event, she'd meant what she said; no more free samples, and that included words. She pulled something out of the pouch that hung from her belt, and at once was surrounded by red smoke. He'd anticipated some disappearing act, and started to move in her general direction as soon as he spotted her. This was his chance. A perfect opportunity to impress Stark and infiltrate his organisation. Though he was surprised London had picked a woman for him to defeat; this was supposed to look difficult, after all.

As he'd suspected, the red smoke theatricals were supposed to disguise "Madame Masque" disappearing into a grass covered trap door near the pool. He caught her wrist before she could pull the lever. She whirled around, and used the motion for a roundhouse kick. It didn't take him much longer to lose the assumption someone in London wanted to make things easy for him. This woman could actually fight. When she grabbed one of the pool chairs and damn near whacked him with it, he realised she was a bruiser, and abandoned all notions of fighting at a lesser level.

By the time she'd thrown him on the newly frozen pool, he was truly and sincerely infuriated; never mind impressing Stark, if this went on much longer, he'd never live the story down at home. He doubled his efforts and had her down near the icy remains of the heat petals, breaking off a shard sharp enough to hold at her neck.

No need to tell her to stop; she caught the implication at once, and apparently finally realised she'd gone too far.

"Now," Bond said, "get up and..."

He saw her eyes flicker just a moment too late. Then he felt it hit him; electricity, enough to make every cell in his body scream. Before unconsciousness claimed him, he spotted the man with the gun in his hand, a gun that had shot some wirelike things at Bond's body.

Of course it had to be the bloody butler.


	2. Chapter 2

**II. Mission Briefing: 15 Days Earlier**

"No, but I really did invent one", Howard insisted. "Had a working model, too, before I scrapped it."

"Alright", Peggy said, her tone making it clear she was just indulging him. "If you invented a freeze ray, a working freeze ray, why on earth didn't you go public with it?"

Howard shrugged. "Lack of practical use. When I first thought of it, we were still fighting the war, and frankly, what the army wanted from me were more efficient killing tools. A freeze ray isn't effficient in that sense. It takes longer than a machine gun to aim and fire, and I couldn't have gone into mass production with it anyway because the factories were needed for other things. After the war, well, there was that misunderstanding which you helped clear up for me, and then I fell for the movies. But my point is, freeze rays are possible, I know this because I know how to build one, and I'm telling you, those notes our guys pulled out of the garbage in Whitney Frost's prison are basic calculations for what just has to be a freeze ray."

After spending years in a certified state of insanity, Whitney Frost had escaped the very luxurious mental hospital she'd been kept in, which would have been bad enough in almost all circumstances. Then the corpses started to pile up, among them a plastic surgeon, which meant that she had a new face, and no one had an idea of what she now looked like. And now rumor had it that a new player named Madame Masque was planning to sell a devastating new weapon to whichever villainous organization bid highest on the global market. Of course the hunt for Whitney was underway, but SHIELDs resources were still very limited and finite, as were their numbers.

Which was why Peggy had decided to change tactics. Instead of trying to find Whitney Frost with less fortunate odds than there were for the proverbial needle in a haystack, she'd make the woman herself come forward, and she'd do so by the audacious ploy of creating a doppelganger, a rival. Since no one knew what Madame Masque looked like, she'd pose as her and would offer to sell a weapon. At the very least, this would create confusion among the various up-to-no-good interested parties, several of whom Peggy hoped to uncover as a neat side effect of the planned mission. At best, it would force Whitney to compete in the open, prove herself to her potential clients as the genuine article.

In order to be believable as a villainous mad scientist, however, Peggy needed something which on the one hand would pass as a devastating weapon at demonstrations but on the other would not actually work in this regard, should it fall into the wrong hands in the course of the mission. Given how rarely missions went according to plan, this was all too likely to happen, and she had no intention of supplying new horrors to the world.

"And the worst thing you could do with a freeze ray would be..." she prompted.

"Well, things are different now than they were in the war. More time and resources. It still wouldn't be as quick and efficient as a gun when it comes to individual killing, but, in theory... if you get the unit small and portable enough, and the array large enough, you could, well, use it to freeze entire buildings. Lay waste to cornfields and orchards, that kind of stuff. At the very least, it'll make for blackmail material for large corporations. I wouldn't want my factories turned into icebergs, let me tell you that. Oh, and it would come in useful for break-ins. Most alarms and safes don't work if you ice the locks."

Peggy forebore to ask whether he knew the last part from personal experience. Ever since finding out about his childhood friendship with a gangster, she had her suspicions when it came to Howard's younger years.

"Just tell me there is no realistic chance of Whitney Frost or anyone else turning the world into Narnia", she said, frowning, and met a blank look.

"Contemporary literature aimed at children isn't Mr. Stark's forte", Jarvis interjected helpfully. "I, only the other hand, am an avid reader of Mr. Lewis' entire oeuvre so far. Ana has a signed copy of 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe'."

"Never mind", Peggy sighed. "Howard, if that's really what Whitney Frost is trying to develop, I have a nasty suspicion that her version would actually work, given her track record so far, if we don't catch her in time. But be that as it may, just tell me that your version won't work beyond small scale demonstrations."

"Peg, you're hurting my feelings. My babies always..." His voice faltered when she turned her well practiced glare on him. "Look, if you're asking me whether I can design crappy stuff by intent, well, of course I can. It'll be just enough for a bluff, don't worry about it."

Every time Howard said something like "don't worry about it", Peggy felt less than assured. But they were on a tight schedule with not much space for deliberation. Or error. She would have asked Jason or even Aloysius Samberly to design a passable supervillain weapon for her, but both of them were too sensible and responsible as scientists to come up with something flashy and dangerous enough on short notice. The most annoying thing about Howard was that when it came to engineering, his ego was completely justified.

Other than an impressive weapon to sell, she would also need an opportunity to advertise herself as the new face of the mysterious Madame Masque, something every likely buyer, but most of all the real Whitney Frost was bound to hear about. Which was another thing she needed Howard for. When she told him about her idea, his eyes gleamed. Edwin Jarvis, on the other hand, looked faintly sick. Since it would be poor Jarvis who'd be in charge of cleaning up the inevitable debris, Peggy sympathized, but it couldn't be helped. Doing this in an environment they couldn't control would just ask for the wrong kind of trouble.

"One more thing", Peggy said. "I don't suppose your friend Manfredi would be willing to cooporate with us again?"

Howard shook his head. "He's in love with the woman", he replied. "The only reason why Joey helped us the last time was that he thought she'd end up destroying herself along with the world. This, on the other hand - going into profitable business with evil science? He's bound to cheer her on."

"I thought as much. But I need her to believe I'm doing something to capture her which is not what I'm actually doing. So Daniel and Rose will run surveillance on him as best they can."

"Peg", Howard said, all appearance of levity drained from his face, "Joey doesn't take well to cops on his trail."

Few gangsters did. But she was confident in Daniel's and Rose's abilities. There was, of course, the outside chance that Whitney Frost would actually try to contact Manfredi, though Peggy didn't think she would; insane or not, the woman was a genius, and was bound to have figured out Manfredi had betrayed her to her enemies in the end, whatever his motives.

No, wherever she was right now, it wouldn't be anywhere near Joseph Manfredi.

"Mr. Jarvis," Peggy said, "one last thing. If I'm to play the role of Madame Masque, I do need the appropriate wardrobe. Which I hope Mrs. Jarvis will be able to help me with."

* * *

 **III. Mission Briefing: 12 Days Earlier**

As briefings went, this, Bond decided, was more agreeable than most. He'd expected some updates on how the fall of Beria affected the operations of SMERSH, the KGB's most lethal branch and his personal white whale. But instead of hearing lectures about the fallout all the recent turnover in the upper Soviet hierarchy had caused, he was treated to photos of several attractive women with and without one of America's more ostentatious millionaires.

"Howard Stark?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Again? Didn't the Cousins clear him of working for the Soviets some years back?"

"That was then", Tanner said impatiently. "This is now. After the Burgess and Maclean debacle, we've got to prove something to them, and frankly, uncovering they've made a mistake easily as embarassing as that would do nicely. Now I don't know what strings Stark pulled to get whitewashed, but the money involved had to be considerable, because the signs of his guilt were pretty damming even then. They even identified his Soviet handler. Back then, she posed as Ida Emke. Later, Dottie Underwood. Captured for a while, then broken out of prison by none other than Stark's associate, Peggy Carter, and this is where it starts to concern us. Carter was one of ours. She served in the war, even got decorated, for God's sake. Transferred to the Americans on a permanent basis post war, worked for a while in the SSR. But that organisation is over and done with. It was folded into something so highly classified that M had to raise hell until the Cousins finally deigned to read us in. Looks like Carter managed to get her own small operation up and running. At the very moment when SMERSH looks like it's transforming into various semi-independent units, now that Beria's no longer running the show. I'm sure I don't need to draw you a diagram."

"If she's that obvious a double, why on earth is she still alive?" Bond asked. "For that matter, why is Stark?"

"Stark's gone and revived his contracts with the US army," Tanner said. "He stopped manufacturing weapons for a while after the war, but now he's back in business, and it seems that buys him a lot of protection. As for Carter, her war record aside, all her subsequent superiors swore up and down she was clean. But then, you know who vouched for Guy Burgess."

Bond did. Kim Philby. Who'd been on his way to become the next M. Philby had been retired into the private sector by now, working for the Observer, with suspicion still hanging over him though nobody had been able to prove anything. Yes, the embarassment for the service _had_ been considerable, and it wasn't surprising that MI6 wanted to prove to the Americans that they had been just as willfully blind.

Ruthlessly, he supressed the thought of Vesper, dead not even a year. Being blind about someone was easy. Which he knew only too well.

"Killing Stark or Carter isn't the main goal here, 007", Tanner said. "We want proof, once and for all. Proof that Peggy Carter is running her own SMERSH sub branch from US soil, and that Howard Stark is financing the whole operation. Probably laundering KGB money while he's at it, because that's how SMERSH operates. And as it happens, there's a perfect opportunity for you to infiltrate their operation."


	3. Chapter 3

**IV. Back to the Present: Fusion**

Peggy was furious, which was always an impressive sight, though Howard was able to appreciate it more when the fury in question wasn't directed at him. This was one of those rare times. To a degree, he shared her sentiments. At first, they'd hoped that the interloper who'd interrupted Peggy's exit was one of the real Whitney Frost's minions. True, Whitney couldn't have known that a second Madame Masque would appear at Howard's party, but with all the trouble he'd taken to advertise it and invite exactly the type of people who'd be potential clients for her, she could have gotten interested enough to send someone. Who would at least provide a lead.

That hope hadn't lasted much longer than Peggy searching the man, who wasn't even awake to enjoy it. He came equipped with a calling card that proclaimed him a businessman representing "Universal Exports". She cursed and informed Howard that Universal Exports these days was the most popular cover story for MI6 agents.

Considering that everyone had seen Jarvis render the man unconscious with one of Howard's latest gadgets and had pretended to do the same to Peggy, this meant they would need an explanation for Madame Masque's inevitable escape so they could get back to the plan, they still had no lead, and they'd have the British secret service's interference to cope with. Once upon a time, Peggy had a lot of old contacts that could have been of use in this regard. But not anymore. Not since she'd found out the truth about what had happened to her brother.

One of the key conditions Peggy had set for the founding of SHIELD had been that they would not be a subsidiary of any other intelligence service. He doubted that she'd change her mind now. On the other hand, Howard had had dealings with military intelligence and other secret services for nearly two decades, and a common denominator was their need for control. Whatever had brought the MI6 agent here, he'd probably insist that his mission was superior to theirs once he woke up. This was just a disaster in the making.

Life had been easier when all he'd been worried about was making more money and finally cracking the mystery of flying cars.

He took another look at the unconscious agent. Not a bad suit, and given from what little he'd seen from the man before he and Peggy turned Howard's pool into a fighting arena, he knew how to fill it, so maybe bribery was a possibility, given the average spy's salary.

"He's awake, you know", Peggy said cooly. "Has been for a while now. If that's how they train agents in London these days, I have to say standards are going down."

The man opened his eyes. He had an interesting face, looking a bit like Hoagy Carmichael with his black hair and high cheekbones; the eyes were what spoiled the film star looks and at the same provided some life. They were grey and very cold.

"I don't think anyone who's left the service in order to work for the private sector with an employer of Mr. Stark's...habits has any room to talk about standards," he said, and Howard, who'd lived with Jarvis for even more years than Peggy had been his friend, reflected not for the first time that something about British accents seemed made to express disdain, "Ma'am."

Peggy was far too professional to protest by spilling information as to who actually worked for whom, or the existence of SHIELD, which presumably had been what this gibe had been intended to provoke her into. She just stared contemptuously, which, given that she was still wearing her Madame Masque costume, added even more ice queen appeal.

"Mind telling me and my habits what you were actually doing on my island?" Howard asked. "Since I don't recall inviting you. Or any other MI6 representative."

"There'd been a tip about a kidnapping attempt," the agent answered unhesitatingly, so Howard was reasonably sure the man was lying. "That's what I thought I was foiling when I interrupted your... dramatic sketch", he continued, with a nod in Peggy's direction before turning again to Howard. "I do apologize for trying to save your life and fortune."

"And MI6 didn't consider simply warning Howard about this threat to his life and fortune why?" Peggy asked, sounding not angry anymore, only mildly sarcastic, which meant she had moved on to planning something new.

"We were afraid radio communications were compromised", Howard's supposed rescuer paried effortlessly. "In fact, any sort of communications. Mr. Stark, you may have a mole on your staff."

"You're sure you're not just sore because Jarvis got the drop on you, Mr...?" Howard asked while starting to wonder about the actual reason for the man's presence. This wasn't his area of expertise, it was Peggy's, but he couldn't confer with her in front of the guy.

"Bond," the man replied. "James Bond. And trust me, I'm used to butlers doubling as bodyguards. I've stopped taking it personally."

"How very generous of you," Peggy said wryly. "Well, it seems we do have to trust you. Because you're going to become Madame Masque's latest minion."

Okay, Howard thought, conferencing couldn't wait. "Excuse us, Mr. Bond", he said, and pulled Peggy out of his wine cellar where they had stashed their unexpected guest. When they were on their way to his lab and out of reach of even the best listener, he said: "What's the plan, Peg? You can't believe a word he says, so..."

"Well, obviously. But if we just kick him off the island, he's bound to interfere and ruin any shot we have at trapping Whitney, _again_. If we keep him prisoner till the mission is over, MI6 will start looking for him, and send even more agents. So we enlist him. We need to explain him anyway, too many people have seen me fighting him. He's one of your bodyguards who just did his job, until Madame Masque corrupts him and seduces him into helping her escape. Then we get back to the original plan. I'll just have to keep an eye on him so whatever he really wants doesn't spoil everything."

The original plan had been for Peggy to leave the island as quickly and discreetly as possible so Madame Masque could start receiving offers, but given her universally observed fight with Bond and "capture", her escape had to be just as public. The story she had just suggested would make sense, but Howard didn't like the idea of her having to divide her attention between various minor villains, hopefully an incensed Whitney Frost _and_ this Agent Bond, no matter what his true goal was. Peggy was great at multitasking, but she wasn't superhuman. And since she'd ordered her usual back-up to watch Joey Manfredi...

"You know, Jarvis would be delighted to come with you."

"I know he would. But there's no way anyone who knows anything about you is going to believe Madame Masque corrupted Jarvis."

This was true, and one reason why Howard hadn't spent a second on wondering whether Bond's insinuation about a mole on his staff could be justified.

"What about one of the kids?" he asked, referring to the few new additions they'd had since founding SHIELD.

"Not in the field against Whitney Frost. Which is another reason to let Bond play Madame Masque's minion. We can't afford to lose any more people, Howard, not when we've barely started."

And Bond was an expendable stranger, was what she didn't say out loud. There was no need. For all her idealism, there was a ruthless streak in Peggy which allowed her to survive and flourish in this most lethal of all games. She'd never risk sacrificing a civilian, Howard thought, but a trained agent who was not one of theirs was another matter.

For his part, Howard had never considered himself an idealist. He'd thought of himself as someone trying to do the right thing in his own way until about the time he'd seen the dead from Finow and known in his heart that even if he walked away from his contracts with the army now, he'd not stop creating weapons for good. These days, he settled for considering himself as someone who enabled other people's heroism in order to minimize the damage their world took.

Well, that, and someone who had the best train set a boy ever built to play with, and the best playmate. _Let's face it,_ Howard thought: _being part of a secret organization led by Peggy Carter is just plain fun._

„You know," he said, „if he survives this whole thing, proves useful and doesn't stab you in the back, maybe we could add him to our team. Anyone who can fight you to a standstill…"

„I was going easy on him", Peggy said, but there was a sparkle in her eyes that made Howard suspect that she, too, was considering possibilities.

* * *

 **V. In the Present: Joint Venture**

Bond had never been very interested in the film industry, but even so, the name Whitney Frost had been vaguely familiar. He mostly associated her with an endless biblical epic that had been playing in a West Berlin cinema while he, Bond, had been making contact with an East German asset. The idea of her being not only a scientific genius but also an evil mastermind, albeit an insane one, recently escaped from an asylum and now moonlighting as a weapons seller on the black market made the plot of that epic sound like grim realism. It also was so far fetched that he started to wonder whether Carter and Stark were not, in fact, doubles for the Russians. SMERSH agents trying to con people usually came up with more plausible stories.

On the other hand, Carter had been in the service long enough to bet on Bond coming to exactly this conclusion, so it might be a double bluff. Be that as it may, if he wanted to get close to her in order to gather evidence of her guilt and then to deal with her accordingly, he had no choice but to play along. So he agreed to become a part of her plan and was told they'd „escape" the island on Howard Stark's helicopter, to be commandeered by him as Stark's supposedly seduced bodyguard for that purpose.

„Try not to break it," Stark said, sounding annoyingly like Q. „It's a new model. On the other hand, feel free to advertise it to as many shady millionaires as you're likely to meet during your time as Madame Masque's minion. I never get tired of collecting new customers."

Carter rolled her eyes at the remark but let it pass. There was an easy familiarity between them which made Bond conclude that whatever had happened between them during the war, they were certainly not having an affair now. They might as well have been married, given the utter lack of sexual tension.

„And where am I supposed to fly the helicopter to… Ma'am?" Bond asked Carter. „I take it Madame Masque has a lair."

„I'll give you the coordinates once we're up in the air."

„One could almost believe you didn't trust me," he said, hoping his contact, the one who'd provided the suit for the party, had alerted London of recent developments.

„She doesn't," Stark said. „I, on the other hand, am a simple American guy with a weakness for Brits, so I trust you. It's the accent that does it. If you do make it back alive, feel free to apply for a job with me. I pay better than her Majesty's secret service, and my pension plan includes a getaway on the Bahamas. How's that for an incentive?"

„You're sure your butler wouldn't mind?" Bond asked, not because he thought Stark was serious but because humoring less than sane megalomaniac millionaires by bantering with them was how he usually proceeded in these situations.

„Nah. Jarvis tells me you took on Bernard the Flamingo and won when arriving on our shores. That basically makes you his new favourite person", Stark said cheerfully.

Later, after they sat in the helicopter, which turned out to be indeed a twin-turbined novelty, the likes of which Bond had not seen before, and he tried to familiarize himself with the updated technology while getting the damn thing in the air as a lot of last night's party guests came running, Carter, dressed again in the silver number with her face covered, casually observed: „You have to know we're still not buying the kidnapping threat story, Mr. Bond. So let me be clear on one thing. Whatever your actual mission was, it's on hold now until this is over. Otherwise, we both end up dead, and that doesn't serve anyone."

There was something in her no-nonsense attitude that reminded him of his Scottish grandmother. Which was a safer comparison than the last woman he'd been on a mission with, and who'd ended up dead. After she'd worked as a double for years.

„Just out of curiosity," Bond yelled, since due to the noise the helicopter made she wouldn't have understood him otherwise, „haven't you considered the possibility that I might already be working for the real Whitney Frost? That all of this so far was an elaborate charade to get her hands on Stark's tech, both the helicopter and that freeze ray device?"

The corners of her mouth curved upwards, which gave her masked face an oddly cherubic look. „No", she yelled back. „Because anything Howard can design, Whitney Frost can design better. She just doesn't have the money to produce it on a grand scale. Yet."

She seemed truly convinced of this, and Bond had to admit that if Carter wasn't deluded or still lying to him for purposes unknown, this made Frost sound like someone who under no circumstances should be at liberty to sell her scientific services to SMERSH, or its remnants, if the organization truly had split up after Beria's death, or anyone else on the international market.

On the other hand, he could finally see a motive for Carter's and Stark's behavior that didn't require him to believe they were innocents despite all the intel hinting at the exact opposite. If they were truly running their own little branch of SMERSH, Frost sounded exactly like the type they'd want to get their hands on.

„Well, then", Bond said at his most sincere while starting to plot ways to take both Carter and Frost out, if necessary, „I'll be at your disposal until the mission is over."

It was hard to tell whether or not she believed him, given the mask. She didn't comment on his assurance, but she did provide him with coordinates. He was a few years younger than Stark, but he'd actually been a pilot during the war, so Bond adjusted the course accordingly. It wasn't that far; a smaller island, he assumed, or maybe a cruiser, even, which would certainly test his rusty landing skills.

They'd been in the air for only fifteen minutes when he felt more than he heard something crackling. A second later the instruments in the helicopter went wild. Bond cursed, and tried to adjust, but it was as if something had fried nearly every wire. If the helicopter had been struck be lightning, the effect would have been similar. Except that the sky was clear, relentlessly blue, with no cloud in sight.

He had to hand it to Carter; she didn't panic as the helicopter started to spin out of control, then took a dive downwards. Instead, she handed him a parachute, adjusted the one she was wearing on her back and executed a jump out of the spinning helicopter that looked as if she did this every other week.

The last time he'd needed to use a parachute, it had been in the Alps. At least the sea here was warmer…for a while, Bond thought, and jumped after her, noting to himself that Carter hadn't even exclaimed in surprise. As if she'd been expecting something like this. So much for trusting each other during the mission.

There was a white spot in the sea beneath them that grew rapidly larger. Bond tried his best to steer in its general direction, but a floating parachute didn't exactly make for a precise landing tool, and so he barely missed what turned out to be a large yacht. Still, the moment of contact with water felt like a hard fall on a concrete pavement.

By the time they'd fished him out, three things were impossible to miss. Firstly, Carter had ended up in the ocean as well, and she'd been retrieved before him. Not, Bond assumed, out of gallantry towards the female sex. They'd been looking specifically for her. Secondly, the yacht had Greek lettering on it, but the men on board looked anything but Mediterranean. In fact, he'd have mentally placed them in a Kansas corn field if he had to pick. And thirdly, Carter, wet and without her mask, which someone must have taken from her during or after fishing her out of the sea, wasn't the only female figure standing on deck. There was another woman, next to what looked like a gigantic telescope. Wearing a mask.

„Don't tell me this is Stark's new butler", she said in a husky voice.


	4. Chapter 4

**VI. In the Present: Enemy Engaged**

Peggy had to hand it to Bond: he _was_ good at taking his cues from her. She's spotted Whitney as soon as she came on board, but also had not been in doubt that Whitney wasn't the one in charge of the ship, at least not yet. The crew didn't behave nearly deferential enough to her for that. No, the owner was probably the pleasant looking fellow wearing a cardigan who reminded her of Ivchenko, the doctor who'd later turned out to be working for Leviathan with Dottie Underwood.

He hadn't been one of Howard's guests; Peggy had memorized every one of them. Nor had she seen him before. But judging by the way everyone on board kept their eyes on him if they didn't need to look elsewhere to execute their tasks, this had to be the owner.

„I take it you want to start negotiations for a purchase very urgently", she drawled, using her best imitation of Whitney's film star voice. „But really, shooting down my helicopter was just rude. I'll have to add this to the price."

„Oh, the helicopter wasn't shot down", the man replied, and she immediately placed him on the US East Coast. „Madame Masque here demonstrated the long range uses of her heatwave dispensator to me." He chuckled. „The _other_ Madame Masque, I should say, since there appear to be two of you."

This was when Bond was brought on board, which gave Peggy time to mentally curse Howard and his certainty Whitney had been building something to freeze rather than to melt. She'd just have to hope that her preparations and improvisational skills would suffice.

When Whitney made her butler taunt, Bond didn't react, instead staring stoically, as a good minion should.

„Leave it to you to get hung up on the help, Agent Carter," Peggy said, then, turning to the yacht owner, added. „That's who she really is, in case you're wondering. Equipped with one of Howard Stark's second rate devices, no doubt, in order to impress you. Don't tell me a man of your calibre is falling for her act."

„This won't surprise you, but that's just what she's been claiming about you. I must say, this really _is_ my day. Either way, evidently there are two ladies competing for my favor and trying to sell me new technology." He turned to Bond. „What every man dreams of, eh? But do tell us your name."

„Bond," Bond said, and Peggy wondered when aliases went out of fashion in the service. Then again, the name was bland and average enough not to stick out. „I did security for Howard Stark." He leered at her. „Until I got a better offer."

„Let's hope the rest of your skills aren't as bad as your piloting", Peggy purred, keeping her Madam Masque persona in mind.

Whitney snorted. „Please. This is so painfully transparent. Amateur actors truly are an insult to the profession. You're not taken in by this, are you?" she concluded, addressing the man in the cardigan.

„What I am is reasonably entertained", he replied. Then the pleasant smile vanished completely. „But all entertainment must end. Well, I admit your little demonstration right now was impressive. But according to reports, so was hers on Stark's island. Never mind which of you is the genuine article right now; I'm a business man. Give me a business pitch as to why yours is better."

„A freeze ray has no practical uses for mass production", Whitney began, and Peggy cut her off immediately.

„Being able to freeze plants and cornfields makes for excellent blackmail material", she said scornfully. „On a smaller scale, it comes in very handy for locks. But then, a do-gooder like yourself wouldn't know about this, would they, Agent Carter?"

She was aware that she was sounding more like Dottie Underwood than like Whitney Frost now. But this man didn't appear to have met Whitney in her old life, and Dottie's way of using sing-song taunts every now and then had branded itself in her memory as one of the more disturbing speech rhythms she'd heard. It would do for the new Madame Masque.

Whitney laughed. „Plants? Cornfields? How small-minded you are." She looked at her device. „Heat is always better than ice", she murmed. „With enough heat, you could burn the world."

„But then, I wouldn't get paid", the yacht owner observed matter-of-factly, and Whitney sighed.

„You could melt the ice caps of the pole", she corrected herself. „If you threaten this, and prove you can do it, then the most powerful governments of the world will have no choice but to bow to your demands. The world will drown otherwise."

Still insane, Peggy thought. Completely so. Unfortunately, given what Howard had said about her genius, Whitney Frost might actually be able to create such a weapon.

„Surely your organisation would love to have that power, Mr. Blueland", Whitney concluded. Which organisation was she talking about? Leviathan? A resurrected Hydra? Someone else?

„Of course they would", she said out loud. „Along with a magic transport spell and the moon. Why don't you promise this as well while you're at it? Now _I_ am a scientist," she continued, adressing Blueland, if that was the yacht owner's name. „I don't make promises I can't keep. I can't melt the poles for you. If you want magic, visit a circus. Otherwise, pay me, and you'll have working freeze rays at your disposal. As many as you can produce after you receive my specifications."

Blueland looked at both of them and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Out of the corner of her eye, Peggy saw that Bond, who'd been brought on board by two armed men just as she'd been, looked like he was ready to get the drop on the guard nearest to him and take the man's gun. Unfortunately, she couldn't let him just yet. They'd probably be able to take out a lot of the people on board, but not all, and it wouldn't make sense to do so before finding out more anyway. No, they needed to play for time. She hoped he understood that.

„A genius like yourself would undoubtedly be able to reproduce calculations and specifications right and now", Blueland said slowly.

„If I didn't want to get paid", Peggy said. „No free goods."

„She's no scientist", Whitney hissed. „I won't give you my invention for free, either, but I _can_ provide you with diagrams for any technology you already possess."

„So can anyone with a good memory, I'm afraid, dear lady", Blueland sighed. „Which I assume a well trained agent has. Well, there's nothing for it. I'll have to cut this short. Since you," he said, with a nod to Peggy, „thoughtfully brought human leverage with you, I'll start with him. Your body and mind should be preserved for further use, whether you are Madame Masque or Agent Carter. His, on the other hand, are superfluous. I don't need another bodyguard. Madame Masque might, but if you are who you say you are, I assure you I'll pay you generously enough for you to find a new one. If, on the other hand, you're Agent Carter, well, then you might wish to save this gentleman here from torture. As interrogations go, I'm afraid his won't be pleasant."

This was why she hadn't wanted any of the new recruits with her, Peggy thought. Nor Daniel, who'd suffered enough for her sake.

„That's not what I signed up for", Bond said to her. Which was how the seduced bodyguard he was pretending to be would react, but was he simply being in character, or was that a warning he'd break cover rather than endure pain for what hadn't even been his mission?

„I bet you didn't", Whitney said, full of cool amusement. „Nor did that glorified cook I had to shoot the last time we crossed paths."

The memory of Ana's crumpled form on the pavement cut through Peggy's mind with a sharpness that still pained her. Ana had survived then, but she'd still paid a life long price, for no other reason than Whitney needing a distraction to allow her escape.

Peggy took the memory and froze it in herself, the way she did with every taunt she'd ever received when circumstances required it. She did not flinch. Instead, she focused on the here and now and made a decision.

* * *

 **VII: In the Present: Backup Plans**

The electronic signal from the helicopter vanished only a minute after the transmission from the radio.

„I take it Miss Carter knows you had the helicopter bugged, sir?" Jarvis asked.

Howard gave him a look. „Would I dare?"

„In the interest of remaining employed, I prefer not to comment, sir."

„In any case," Howard said, „she did expect contact with either Frost or customers or both, probably coupled by a forced landing. Seems that happened sooner rather than later. And this, in turn, means you, I and the kids are getting to take the sub out on a spin, Jarvis."

Building his very own submarine had been Howard's latest project, and he had justified putting everyone through a crash course of how to manoeuvre a submarine as „building team spirit" to Peggy. The fact that it had gotten him another navy contract was incidental. The crash course had gone well enough, but Howard was willing to err on the cautious side for once by retaining the services of one of the submarine crew who'd trained him. Peggy hadn't cleared the man for field duty yet because she hadn't had the chance to look into his background, but then, Peggy had taken off with a complete stranger on a dangerous mission, so Howard felt entitled to make a few staff decisions of his own. After all, he was still bankrolling everything.

For the benefit of his guests, he'd made a big production out of his anger regarding the theft of a helicopter by the party-crashing Madame Masque and his no longer trusty bodyguard. Never let it be said that anyone knew how to throw a better temper tantrum than Howard Stark. This meant he also had the perfect excuse to leave the island in pursuit, though he pretended to do so on a motorboat; the submarine, after all, should be a secret from the various sinister and not so sinister parties their entire plan was supposed to attract. So he sent Jarvis and the kids ahead with the submarine while departing in grand style and broad daylight; they were supposed to rendezvous with him later, and then they'd get on the trail of Peggy and his probably captured helicopter while one of the kids returned the motorboat discreetly to the island.

At least, that was the intention. The sad reality included the submarine being nowhere in sight when Howard arrived at the rendezvous. Since by now, his imagination had supplied a great many unpleasant explanations as to why the tracking device he'd planted on the helicopter had simply winked out of existence and thus time was of the essence, Howard decided not to wait but to head towards the general direction where the helicopter had last registered, trusting the submarine, once it arrived, would follow; the tracking device on his motorboat, after all, was still working perfectly.

It didn't take him long to find the huge yacht. Unfortunately, it had taken the yacht's crew less time to spot him. Or so he gathered by the fact there were people on deck shooting at him.

And that was before the splash of the body dumped right in front of him.

* * *

Bond had no intention of dying for Peggy Carter, very likely double agent and at best deserter to the private sector. On the other hand, he considered himself able to cope with some torture as long as he knew the endgame was worth it. And this Frost woman definitely had to be stopped. Not because Bond thought her ploy of blackmail via melting the polar ice caps would actually work, but rather because he thought it wouldn't. Her tech might. But the Russians would simply laugh at her and start to build more ships for the Politburo members to live in while the rest drowned. The Americans would probably follow suit, and England would go the way of Atlantis.

This was not why he'd joined the service.

Women were sentimental by nature, though, so he feared Carter would go soft on him and reveal the truth once torture was on the table. So he tried to signal to her without giving the game away.

„This is not what I signed up for," he said, hoping she'd remember that actually, this was exactly what every agent signed up for. Even without a mask, he found her hard to read, and so he couldn't tell whether she had understood him until her lips thinned and she waved her left hand.

„Do your best," she said to Blueland in a bored tone. „It's not like I need him any longer."

This was just a tad too convincing, and he was back to considering her a SMERSH agent more likely than not, but be that as it may, he had no choice but to play along for now. There was no way a besotted and betrayed bodyguard would take this lying down, though, so he conjured up an indignant roar while lunging at her.

„Bitch! You swore you loved me!" His guards didn't stop him in time, and so he was able to push the gun he'd stolen under the life belts lying on deck before being pulled back. Hopefully, she'd spotted it.

„You know," she said viciously once he'd been restrained, „I've changed my mind. I had enough of his type when my fans were pestering me. Torture is too good for him. Let him drown."

The guards looked at Blueland, who nodded, with a raised eyebrow. „I think I've seen enough", he said, and snapped his fingers. „You heard the lady."

Some voices yelled that a boat was approaching, and not one of theirs. Most of the remaining crew got their weapons out and rushed to starboard, but Bond's guards still followed orders and dragged him overboard. While he was passing Carter, she didn't twitch, but she did look pointedly in the direction of the commotion. Which was how Bond deduced that the fool getting himself shot at while approaching the yacht in broad daylight with no weapons was probably supposed to be his getaway.


	5. Chapter 5

**VIII. In the Present: Adrift**

„I'm just saying," Howard repeated, for what seemed the tenth time since he retrieved Peggy from the water, „the sub _will_ be here."

„Unless its instruments got fried the second or third time that heatwave device was used", Bond commented, which wasn't helping. What was it about Brits, Howard reflected, that made them such natural pessimists?

Now granted, Bond had come in useful when they'd still been dodging bullets. Howard wasn't bad with a motorboat, but he had no experience in a firefight, whereas Bond seemed to know exactly where the blind spots were, so Howard hadn't regretted risking life and limb to let him climb on board after the agent had been pushed from the yacht. After a few shouted instructions, he'd simply allowed the other man to take the wheel so save time. Then the shooting had stopped, an eerie silence had fallen among the goons above them, as they'd heard snatches from the conversation between Whitney and Peggy.

Bond somehow had guessed what Peggy was about to do a few seconds before she did and moved the motorboat further away from the yacht. After the explosion, Howard spent some helllish minutes imagining he'd lost his best friend until he spotted Peggy swimming away from the sinking ship, a black silhouette dividing the burning waters. Now they were currently trying their best to get away on a boat that turned out to have taken a few more bullet holes than were safe. He'd have to find a way to make his boats bullet proof from now on.

„Stark instrumentation doesn't fry," Howard protested in reply to Bond's observation.

„The one on the helicopter did."

Annoyingly, this was true. „Presumably because it was directly targetted. Which wouldn't have been true for the sub. Besides, everything on this boat is still working, isn't it?"

„Not the radio", Peggy said in another proof of the English tendency to make an emergency worse by depressing observations.

„Because it was hit by a random bullet", Howard returned. „Not because of some heatwave. Seriously, would it kill you two to have some confidence in our survival courtesy of the equipped-by-me cavalry coming to the rescue?"

Neither of them replied. Secretly, Howard admitted to some concern of his own in this regard, but then he told himself that he'd perfected the long distance electronic tracking monitor, if only because Jarvis needed to be able to retrieve both Howard and his cars even after drunken nights in Las Vegas when Howard was supposed to be in Los Angeles.

The silence was getting uncomfortable. Not least because he knew Peggy was worried about Sousa and the delightful Rose Roberts. Unfortunately, he couldn't offer any assurances on that front. Joey and he had been more than close as boys, and Howard was reasonably sure even today, Joseph Manfredi wouldn't harm him unless his own life was at stake. Anyone else, though, especially if he thought it would get him back into Whitney Frost's good graces? Absolutely.

„I've got life belts", Howard said. „If this little beauty sinks before the sub arrives. Which it will. Arrive, that is."

Bond pointed in the direction of the burning wreck of a yacht that was still sinking. „They've got life belts, too. And I bet any surviving crew member is more than willing to kill us, if we all end up together in the water."

„We'll all end up together anyway," Peggy snapped. For the first time since they'd met the man, Bond looked honestly surprised, as Peggy continued: „If the submarine arrives, I intend to retrieve any survivors and bring them in. There is such a thing as a code to uphold, Mr. Bond. I'd have thought you'd have sworn to it, too."

He regarded her thoughtfully. Or maybe that was his let's have sex look; Howard knew how he himself would have felt if this had been his first encounter with Peggy Carter. Then again, not everyone shared his penchant for regarding dressing downs by attractive woman as turn-ons.

„Things have changed since you left the service," Bond said at last. „Given the nature of our enemies, they had to."

„They changed before I left", she retorted, and Howard knew she was thinking of Michael, her brother, and the truth which she'd only understood to its full extent after they'd found Jack Thompson lying in his blood with an empty file on M. Carter.

As memories went, this wasn't one he wanted Peggy to dwell on, any more than the prospect of drowning. So Howard said: „Speaking of things to uphold. You're both aware there's a tried and true method to delay hypothermia, aren't you? One definitely available to three such fine specimens of humanity such as ourselves. Just in case we need to wait a while longer."

„Don't be disgusting, Howard," Peggy said, but she smiled, and he knew he'd succesfully distracted her from the abyss of the past. For his part, Bond actually looked vaguely amused as well. Which was a good look on him, Howard had to admit.

„Your file didn't say you played both teams, Stark," Bond said wryly. „Are you sure you'd be up to the challenge?"

„I contain multitudes," Howard returned modestly while Peggy snorted, then stilled. Howard felt it, the nearly subaudible hum beneath him even before she pointed.

The submarine had arrived. It took a while to rise enough from the waters so that its hatch could be safely opened. As Howard had expected, the first person whose face he saw, waiting for them, was Edwin Jarvis.

What he hadn't expected was the figure of his former instructor in the art of navigating a submarine standing behind Jarvis, with a gun in his hand pointing at Jarvis' back.

„I'm afraid the Stark-1 has been commandeered on the high seas, Sir," Jarvis said.

* * *

 **IX. In the Present: Finale**

On the one hand, Bond was reasonably sure that Carter and Stark would hire him now, whether or not Stark's earlier offer had been meant seriously, so that infiltration of their organization would be easy. On the other he was depressingly certain that it would be a waste of time. No SMERSH tools would ever have acted like Carter did, destroying the weapon and its engineer rather than claim it and use it. Never mind the insistence on saving surviving goons who'd been busy shooting at them only a short while ago. As for Stark, while he wouldn't exclude the possibility of the man being an unwitting tool for _someone_ , he doubted it would be for the Russians. He remembered the grim execution Le Chiffre had faced for what were, by comparison, minor indiscretions.

Still, orders were orders, and Bond hadn't yet made up his mind when his contact showed up in Stark's submarine with a gun at his hand.

„I don't believe this," Stark said. „Et tu, Phil? Don't tell me. Does my pension plan suck this much?"

Considering Philip Stanley had been the one providing MI6 with most of the intel indicating that Stark and Carter were likely Russian doubles, this was a somewhat enlightening turn of events. Not least because he hadn't been aware that 24-D-6, as Stanley's official designation went, had apparantly already been a close employee, as opposed to the part time minor freelancer the briefing had claimed. What, then, had been the point of Bond's mission? Unless…

„A businessman like yourself should be aware there's always someone ready to outbid you", Philip Stanley said politely.

Which excluded her Majesty's government, Bond thought, furious with himself. After Vesper's death, he'd vowed never to be taken in again. „So SMERSH got to you", he said tonelessly.

„Who the hell is SMERSH?" Stark asked, and Carter murmured: „Short for Smert Shpionam, meaning ‚Death to Spies'. One paygrade below Leviathan."

Before Bond could ask who Leviathan was supposed to be, Stanley replied: „SMERSH? Don't be ridiculous, 007. As if I'd go to the Russkies. No, the US private sector is where the money is at. I'm working for Roxxon Oil. Now, where is it? And where is she?"

Roxxon. The name did ring a bell, and a moment later, it came to Bond. The corperation had been named in his files as Stark Industries´ major competition, not least because of their complete takeover of Isodyne, the cutting edge company owned by…the late Calvin Chadwick and his widow, Whitney Frost.

„I take it you're referring to Whitney Frost and her heatwave device", Carter said at the same time as Bond came to this conclusion.

„Both property of Roxxon Oil", Phil Stanley confirmed cheerfully. „The contract she'd originally signed with Isodyne regarding all her inventions was crystal clear on that. But if you've left her on that wreckage, fine. As long as you hand over Roxxon's property."

„Unfortunately, Carter just blew it up", Bond said with a certain relish. Stanley looked outraged, a look that quickly turned into pain as Stark's butler, who'd until then had held his hands up, lowered them and made a quick move with his right wrist while turning around. Bond thought he saw some electric sparks, which reminded him of how he himself had been taken out.

„I couldn't risk using the electric shocker within the submarine as long as we were below water", the butler explained. „Miss Carter, I apologize for any inconvenience our delayed arrival might have caused."

* * *

Not thirty hours later, Bond found himself summarizing events up to this point to M during his debriefing. M looked sceptical, but made a comment to the effect that they'd have to add industrial espionage to the risk factors now.

„I don't think Stark will hire any outsiders again in the near future, Sir", Bond said. „Certainly not me, after 24-D-6 has blown my cover. But for what it's worth, I stand by my assessment regarding Carter. She's not a double."

He forbore to point out that if any organization had proven itself to be infiltrated, it had, yet again, turned out to be MI6, not whatever little spy club Carter had started running with Stark's help. This humiliating fact had to be painfully obvious to M. Bond doubted that the infiltrator being paid by US industrialists rather than Russian thugs made it any better. Well, at least the polar ice caps weren't in danger of melting any time soon.

„And Frost?" M asked. „Was she among the survivors from the yacht?"

„Her body wasn't found", Bond replied, which was true as far as it went, but neither a yes nor a no. Still, he cared to be precise in this case. Declaring someone dead whose death he had neither caused nor personally witnessed was just begging for an unpleasant resurrection surprise later. He didn't want to jinx it. As far as he was concerned, Whitney Frost truly was better off dead.

„And you're sure you have nothing do add, 007? Regarding Carter and Stark?"

Bond kept his face blank.

„Once Stanley had been incapacitated, Stark used the submarine's radio communication, and it turned out both of the agents Carter had send to run surveillance on Frost's gangster ally were in fact alive, well and at liberty, if a little worse for wear. Which appears to be true of Joseph Manfredi as well. I'm told someone named Agent Roberts put him into the hospital."

M's interest in the fates of US crime lords appeared to be limited. „Nothing _else_? After all, you could have reported back here at least eight hours earlier."

Bond thought of Stark's mansion with its many treats. He'd never allow himself to be swayed by US money the way Stanley had been. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy a break now and then.

„Jet lag, sir. It affects the best of us."

M snorted, and dismissed him. When Moneypenny spotted Bond leaving M's office, she called to him. „Did you really meet Peggy Carter?" she asked after they'd exchanged their usual banter. „She's the reason why I enlisted. She'd saved my life during the war when I was still at school."

Being M's secretary had ensured Moneypenny kept up a jaundiced attitude towards the various agents coming and going; hero worship wasn't her style, so Bond was surprised at the wide-eyed, awed look, school girl crush or not. He confirmed having met Carter.

„Did she tell you?"

„Mostly, she told me off. Are you referring to anything in particular, Penny?"

Moneypenny's eyes sparkled. „That she was the first, James. The first Double O. You're following in her footsteps."

Recalling Carter's very shapely calves, Bond ruefully acknowledged there were worse shoes to fill.


End file.
